


Looking Towards Peril

by Rynfinity



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2578412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odin is not the only member of this household who can be ridiculously stubborn, though.  In fact, they all can.  "I scarcely think that's true," Frigga disagrees.  "From the stories I'm told he is the spitting image of you as a boy."  She smiles sweetly to soften the sting of her words.  "If perhaps a bit less conniving."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking Towards Peril

"That one begins to worry me," Frigga tells Odin as they stand together in the long hallway, watching the fast-retreating silhouettes of their sons.

"Loki," Odin surmises.

She nods. "He takes things far too seriously for one so young," she explains when her husband fails (or, put more accurately, elects not) to ask her opinion. "And he lies, as children do, and yet his tale-spinning does not seem to bring him joy."

Odin frowns. Standing as she is off to what she privately thinks of as _his good side_ , Frigga can see his lone eye narrow. "He is but a child, and a prince to boot," he tells her. "It is not an easy path to walk, not for anyone."

"And yet Thor suffers no such hardship," she points out. "Though he is none other than a princely boy too."

"Thor is different," Odin says, in a tone of voice anyone in Asgard would recognize to mean _conversation over._

_Case closed._

Odin is not the only member of this household who can be ridiculously stubborn, though. In fact, they all can. "I scarcely think that's true," she disagrees. "From the stories I'm told he is the spitting image of you as a boy." She smiles sweetly to soften the sting of her words. "If perhaps a bit less conniving."

"He needs not to sneak about, does he," Odin grumbles. "His brother has a fine grasp of both deception and evasion. There is nothing left for Thor to claim."

"That is hardly the whole truth of it and you know it," Frigga chastises.

Both sons at last gone from view, her husband turns to face her. He sets a heavy hand alongside each shoulder, as though she was the little one needing wise counsel. "We cannot tell him, love," he reminds her. "There is far too much at stake, and he is too young to understand. You know this."

She nods, a bit sadly. She does know, and there is much to be risked (and potentially lost). On the middle point, though, she remains unconvinced. "Sometimes I cannot help but wonder," she says, holding his gaze - he scares her not, even at his worst, and his worst is hidden far beneath the surface today - "If it is _you_ who are not ready. In my heart of hearts I suspect you will find him _too young_ until you yourself have drawn your last breath."

Odin tries his most formidable scowl, but the corners of his mouth twitch. "Fine," he concedes at last, leaning in to plant a soft kiss upon her brow. "You are right. I dread telling him the truth. His imagination is far too vivid - and comprehensive - as it is."

"Loki has a powerful mind at the mercy of powerful feelings," Frigga agrees. "And at this tender age he lacks the maturity to cope with it. I only fear that, if we do nothing, it will be entirely too late by the time we realize the opportunity to act safely has long since come and gone."

It is Odin who smiles this time. "In other words, you do not wish to be the one left to broach the topic _after_ my last breath has come and gone."

"Hardly," she says. She is never one to shy from the painful conversations, er they would not be here now. "I only want what is best for him, darling. Only what is best for all of us."

"Would that the two things were the same," Odin says quietly.

Frigga nods again. "Would that we had a way to know."

~

"Thor made me," Loki asserts. His sharp little chin juts forward; his smudged hands rest jauntily on his hips. Blood trickles from a cut above one eye, and oozes sluggishly through a ragged tear in the knee of his leggings. "He told me not to tell."

None of that sounds the least bit like Thor; Frigga makes a mental note to pursue it under cross-examination later. For now, she will let Loki spin his yarn. "He made you," she prompts. "Made you what?"

Only his mother would notice the briefest hesitation. The quick flash of panic across Loki's face. "He made me run in the orchard," he tells her, childish composure quickly back in place. "He knows we're not allowed."

"And? How did that end up with this," she inquires, gesturing to his knee.

"I tripped over a root," he finishes, triumphant. "Just like you always say I will."

"And were we to summon them," she asks, watching Loki's expressive little face closely, "would your father's ravens tell the same tale?"

Sure enough, there it is again. Loki is in uncharted territory here, making the whole thing up as he goes. "They are _birds_ ," he reminds her a little sharply, sounding far too much like his father. "They squawk and caw. They would _say_ nothing."

She nods sagely. "Should we ask them anyway, just to be certain?"

"Oh, I am sure they are too busy to be bothered," he insists, parroting the same line the governess always used when referring to the King.

Frigga cannot help but laugh, despite her best intentions. "It is a fine tale," she commends him, laughing once again as his little mouth falls open, his lips a pink O. "Truly, it is. But heed me thus: you had best be careful where you tell it."

Loki shuts his mouth abruptly, and from the thin, tense line of his lips she can see he knows he has not won. Still, he refuses to concede. “I will tell it where I wish,” he vows, head once again high, “and none shall stop me.”

It’s about then Frigga realizes she’s stopped smiling.

~

“What do _you_ have to say for yourself, young man,” she asks Thor. He stands valiantly in front of her. Normally the polar opposite of his little brother, for once he is the one who can’t make eye contact. As always, Thor is the one who wriggles and fidgets. He struggles to stay still, and today is no exception.

“Didn’t- didn’t Loki tell you what happened,” he tries.

Frigga sidesteps his question. “I should like to hear it from you,” she tells him gently.

He pauses for a few seconds, lips moving silently; she can all but _see_ him running through his story, carefully rehearsing it in his head. “I chased Loki through the orchard,” he says in a rushed, inflectionless tumble. “He tripped on a root and fell.”

“Excellent job,” she tells him warmly. The praise catches Thor off-guard; he flushes red and breaks out into a huge smile.

“Loki and I _practiced_ ,” he brags.

Something inside of her twists and dies, just a little. It _hurts_. “I’m sure you did, sweetie,” she says, a bit absently. “I’m sure you did.”


End file.
